The Black Sheep's Fall from Grace
by loquaciousLilies
Summary: A humanstuck tale of Gamzee's arrest and trial while coupled with flashbacks explaining his fall from grace. Including his life with a cult, his small career as a drug runner, and his rocky stint in foster care. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

The speed limit is 45. He's driving at a steady 70 ignoring all red lights in his path. This ghost town is so empty he could do this in the middle of the day but instead chooses this joyride to be at 3 in the morning. With the bodies in the backseat and his photo in the front this ride is very far from a joyride. "Dazed and Confused" plays quietly in the background willing itself to be drowned out by the sirens but Gamzee holds enough attention to the song for its waves to stay in the air.

He wishes for a moment he'd thought to grab his cell phone so that he could call Karkat. He wants to tell him he's sorry. Sorry for killing Equius. Sorry for not having the right mind to let Nepeta kill him with her futile attempts to protect the broken man on the floor. He wants to tell Karkat he is so sorry he killed them. He hadn't meant to. He was too high on the rare dose of LSD he'd stumbled upon to realize the two knocking at the door weren't from the Family. They weren't there to kill him only to check on him after Tavros's death. But he hadn't been there to calm Gamzee down. He hadn't been here to stop Gamzee from killing them with his bare hands.

And as the red and blue lights flicker in the background, as the air fills with Robert Plant's moan , Gamzee can't help but think he was destined for this. The members of the family had always called him a sinner, a bastard, a monster. And maybe he was all of those things.

The rooms are cramped. Ten people sleep on ten cots smashed together in a room just big enough for them. Lights out is at eight. A four year old Gamzee misses his mother. He doesn't like this uncomfortable cot. He doesn't like this new home. He doesn't like these new people. He doesn't like this new man who wants him to call him daddy. He wants his daddy to come back. He wants to move back home. He wants to get back on the big plane, fly over the large water and be in his little room with his bunny. They won't let him have his bunny. They say Jesus is all he needs but he doesn't know who this Jesus is. The Jesus his mother tells him about would let him keep his bunny.

The man next to him begins to snore. It's the loudest noise Gamzee's ever heard a human make. He frowns, his frown soon becoming a wavering lip as tears well in his eyes. He wants his mother. Sitting up slowly, he looks around at the other men sleeping contently in their cots. The room is bare, save for the men in their cots and a small cross beside the door. His small feet hit the carpet without a sound and he rushes to the door. The door creaks loudly when he pushes it. The hallway is dark and Gamzee has to stay by the wall to keep his balance.

"Mama," he calls quietly into the darkness. The first room he comes to is another room filled with cots and sleeping men and boys. He searches the cots anyway hoping to see face of his mother. His mother is a relatively tall women with the plump features of a beautiful girl who never got her body back after giving birth. She has long blonde hair that curls a little at the end and a face full of freckles, neither of which Gamzee inherited. He is an olive skinned little boy, with the wavy dark hair of his father that hits just around his shoulder. He calls out her name once more before running into woman.

The lights flick on and a heavyset woman stands before him. She is much taller than him but shorter than his mother. She is a big pink monstrosity with her hair twirled into a tight, "no nonsense" bun. "Oh my, little sinner, what are you doing up so late?" she exclaims through tight lips as she snatches him up.

"I want my mama," he sobs. He fusses against the woman attempting to break free of her grip to continue on his search. Moments of struggle and he's back in the packed room he has just escaped.

"Shush now, you bad little boy." She scolds laying him back down on his cot. "No more trouble out of you, tonight. I'll be sure you have a talk with Father Gracy in the morning."

Gamzee begins to cry but is popped on the mouth by the woman. "Our brothers are trying to sleep, you heathen." She leaves Gamzee alone to try his hardest not to make a noise.

He falls asleep eventually only to be woken up by the screeching of a loud alarm. One of the older men, a man of about 40 with salty gray hair, helps Gamzee up and leads his to the courtyard. The early morning light is gray and the dew covered grass is cold on Gamzee's bare feet. The people line up before a small podium. The courtyard is bare save for the podium in front of them and grand garden to the groups' left. Gamzee eyes the garden briefly searching the face around him for his mother. He hasn't seen his mother since they were separated the evening before. Coming straight from the plane Gamzee had been tired and ready to collapse into his mother's arms and sleep soundly but instead found him self in the hard cot with the thin scratchy blanket.

"Boy!" the man beside him snaps "face forward and pay attention to Father's sermon." There's the look of disgust that follows Gamzee throughout his life with the Family splayed on the man's face. They all look down on him as the bastard child. He's the black lamb of the Family to the point that the adults warn the children not to get too close.

Father Gracy stands before the small crowd and begins to preach of the wondrous morning. Gamzee can barely see the dark hair of his mother standing beside the Father as he preaches. Before the sermon is over Father asks the crowd and the witnessing God to forgive his mother and Gamzee watches confused. What did his mother have to be sorry for? He didn't understand why it was so bad that she left the Family? Why it was bad she married his father and had Gamzee?

After the sermon Gamzee is ushered back in to a small building with the look of an Army mess hall. He's placed at a table with other little boys his age and the same old woman from last night. They're given oatmeal and a glass of milk. The boys dig in staring at Gamzee. They've never met a child from the outside. It unsettles the Greek boy causing him to pick at the mushy oatmeal. He doesn't like this odd breakfast. He wants his milk warm and a bowl of yogurt. He misses Greece more today than he did yesterday.

He doesn't finish his meal before he's moved back to the room where his cot is. There's clothes set out on each made bed. The outfit contains a pair of khaki shorts and a white tee. The children are then lead to a classroom. They learn about the lord, math, and their letters. During the math section the Father comes in the room calling Gamzee out. The children all stare as Gamzee slinks out the room eyes stuck on the ground. They walk together to the Father's office. His attempts to be kind are lost on Gamzee, his eyes never leaving the floor.

"Sit down, my son," Father Gracy says pointing at a hard chair in front of his desk. Gamzee sits and looks about the room. The room holds a desk, two chairs, and a book shelf full of religious books. The walls hold only a cross and a painting of the Virgin Mother and Child. On the bookshelf is a puppet that smiles down at the young Gamzee with a creepy painted smile.

"I know you're new to the family, son," the man begins leaning on his desk. "So, I'm going to let this slide. But you need to know that we don't walk around after lights out. The next time you're out after lights out there will be a punishment."

Gamzee nods still avoiding the Father's eyes. The stern man stands moving to stand next to Gamzee ruffling the boys long hair. "We'll need to get you a hair cut."

He leads the boy out of the office where his mother is waiting. "He's a beautiful child, my daughter" he says smiling at Gamzee's mother. A spark of hatred ignites in Gamzee's stomach when the Father talks to his mother. The hatred only grows as the years go on. Father never becoming especially kind to the two.

She bends down taking the small boy into her arms. A wash of relief passes over him as he wraps his arms around her neck. "Gamzee, you have to be a good boy." she whispers rubbing his back. "The family was nice enough to let us back. So, you have to promise me you'll be a good boy."

Gamzee nods hugging his mother back. "I promise, Mama."

He tried to keep his promise but it seemed as the years went on he kept getting in trouble. He would do just as the other children did but would find himself in the Father's office nearly every week. He hated being sent to the office. The first few times were just being yelled at but eventually patience grew thin and the Father turned to violence on the boy. The years before the great Fall Gamzee spent very little time without some bruise caused by the Father on his body. He knew the other children gained the same beatings but he also knew they were never as frequent as Gamzee's. And each time there was a beating the puppet would sit on the bookshelf grinning down at Gamzee.

"Gamzee?" Tavros asks from the passenger side. Gamzee jumps looking over at the man he loves. His mouth is agape at the person beside him.

"T-tavbro?" he croaks out feeling tears he promised would never fall again prickle his eyes.

"Eyes on the road, Gamzee," Tavros coos his staying on the asphalt.

Gamzee nods obliging. "How are you all motherfucking a-"

Tavros cuts him off with a sharp "no". "Gamzee you know I'm dead. You've made me up to be alive because you need help. You need to pull the car over."

Gamzee is quiet thinking over what Tavros said. "Yes... you are dead aint you?" he mutters.

There a light laughter echoing through the cab of the vehicle. "I am Gamzee. But I still love you. And I still need you to pull the car over."

A soft sigh leaves Gamzee as he begins to slow the car down. "I love you too, Tav. I'm so sorry for all've this. "

"It's okay. But you have to promise me you'll be a good boy." the fading man says softly.

"I promise, Tavros." Gamzee nods pulling the car over into the gravel.

a/n: So I've been taking far too much time on this story. I hope that you all like it as much as I do! If anything is weird or hard to understand please let me know. Any critique is wonderful and appreciated. Also this story was brought on by listening to Jesus by Brand New and based a little on Survivor by Chuck Palahniuk. Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

"Do you know why I pulled you over?" the male cop asks shinning a bright light in on Gamzee. He squints nodding as the female circles the vehicle. He knows her. Terezi Pyrope listens closely to the dog's breathing as it sniffs the vehicle. It stops barking twice. "What is it girl?" she responds to the dog leaning into the car. Her nose twitches catching the smell of the dead."I think we have something " The cop gives her a skeptical glance before walking towards her side of the car. The small girl frowns sensing his skepticism as she moves away from the car. He doesn't believe she knows anything, the blind lawyer doing a ride along to learn.

She sniffs the air again smelling the familiar scent of Dollar Store shampoo and dirt that drifts off Gamzee. "Gamzee?" she inquires coming around to the drivers side window.

"Hey, sis," he says looking at the girl before him. The cop steps away from the car in disgust calling for back up.

"Ms. Pyrope!" he says grabbing her attention away from the bloodied male. Gamzee stares at his hand suddenly taken aback by the dried blood on his hands. He had killed them, this was not a dream. "I need you to wait in the car, there are bodies in the vehicle."

Gamzee,age 13, opens his eyes to his mother's face and her calloused hand covering his mouth. She pulls him from his bed without a word leading him to the front door. Shoving a light jacket, a back pack, and his beat up pair of tennis shoes, she glances around worriedly. With shoes on his feet and a jacket on his back Gamzee stands eye to eye with his mother.

She grasps his shoulder. "Gamzee, you know I love you. And as your mother I must do whatever I can to protect you." she stops for a moment composing herself. "I'm so sorry we had to come back here. I'm so sorry you've had to deal with him. I'm sorry I've ignored all the bruises. I'm sorry I couldn't take care of you like a mother should." Another pause as she lifts a hand to caress Gamzee's freshly bruised cheek. He melts into her touch longing to be held like he was a child again. "But this is my chance to redeem myself." Tears well in her eyes and Gamzee reaches to hug his mother but she shakes her head. "When I open this door you run. Don't turn back, no matter what you hear, and don't stop until you can't run any more. And whatever you do, do not come back here."

She embraces him placing a kiss on his forehand. "I love you Gamzee," she whispers opening the door. He hesitates for a moment before his mother gives him a soft push. And he's off running faster than he's ever run before. The night is cold and windless. He can hear a commotion behind him but he doesn't look back. People are yelling for him to come back. People are running after him but all he can hear is his mother yelling "run". Screaming at them to stay away from her son. Shouting for him to run and them to stop. But he's fast. The adrenaline pumping through his vein lets him outrun his perusers They call out that they'll get him one day. That he can never out run the Family.

He comes to a tumbling stop as he collapses to the ground gasping for air. After a moment he sits up looking around. He's reached the edge of the city. An empty 7-11 sits on the corner of two cracked streets. There is no one around. Tears fall from Gamzee's eyes as he drags himself back up. He knows he needs to keep running but can only mange a shaking, slow walk. He walks attempting to open the doors of the apartment buildings. Finding one whose lock is broken, he enters the building and sits on the stairs to rest his breathing heavy.

He looks in his bookbag to find a pair of clothes, $20, and a crumpled photograph of his parents and him. A happy family he used to have. He used to look up to his father, imagine him as some super hero who would fly down and save him and his mother but now the sight of him fills Gamzee with bitter rage. If his dad hadn't have been so selfish this never would have happened. If he hadn't decided that who-knows-what was more important than his wife, than his son, Gamzee and his mother would be happy together living in a small Grecian apartment. He would have gotten a real education, a real childhood, and real friends. There would have been some semblance of joy in the boy's life.

He leans against the stairs wiping at his eyes, knowing from now on he's alone in the world. He has to be a man and can't cry anymore.

A large hand lands on his shoulder causing him to jump. He looks beside him to see a rough looking guy. He's taller than Gamzee his lanky frame covered in clothes much too baggy for his body shape. His hair is shaven leaving him with light blonde peach fuzz. "Hey, little man, what are you doing crying on these stairs?" the man asks a gentle smile on his face

Gamzee shrugs not knowing how to speak to him. He hasn't spoken to someone outside of the Family in ten years. The only members of the family who were granted the pleasure to speak to outsiders were adults with jobs outside of the family. These were normally men who did hard labor for minimum wage.

The man frowns letting go of Gamzee's shoulder to sit beside him on the stairs. He leans back in a relaxed manner contrary to Gamzee huddled position with his knees to his chest. "Alright, lets start motherfucking simple, what's your name kid?" he says softy as if Gamzee's silence isn't odd.

"Gamzee," he squeaks out. After a few more questions Gamzee is feeling comfortable and safe. The man is all around easy going and he seems to care about the wreck beside him. He even gets Gamzee to crack a small smile.

"There we go kid. No motherfucking crying on my stairs," the man says with a grin. He offers his hand introducing himself as Thomas Cliffton. "Now, wanna tell me why you're all up and hiding on these stairs with motherfucking tears falling out your eyes?"

Gamzee looks away the small smile wiping clean from his face. "I... I was hoping they wouldn't find me here... I don't want them to take me back..." he whispers the last part the panic returning. He has no clue what they would do if they found him only that it would include Father's harsh hands. He pulls his knees tighter against his chest trying to become as small as he can manage.

Arms wrap around Gamzee's form making him jump again. "Who, kid?" Thomas asks pulling the small boy to his chest causing him to topple over a little.

"The Family or Father..."

Thomas pulls him out of the hug holding his shoulder so the two are making eye contact. "You running from your father?" Gamzee nods slowly afraid that he will make him go back. Maybe this kind man thinks running away from home is wrong? Maybe he trusted the wrong person? Maybe Father was right and all outsiders were horrible beings who only wished the worst for the Family? His worries subside when the arms are back around him. "I up and ran from my home too. My motherfucking dad laid a hand on me and I just left. You come up to my apartment, I'll take care of you from now on."

He stands bringing Gamzee up with him. Letting go he leads Gamzee up the dirty stairs. They arrive in a large apartment. Thomas gives him a tour. There are two bedrooms, the living room, a clean bathroom, kitchen, and the biggest room in the back seems to be a makeshift green house filled with greenery. There are four other males tending to the plants that look at Gamzee skeptically until Thomas shoos them.

"You'll have to help us out around here, maybe be a motherfucking errand boy, but we'll keep you safe and fed and sound," Thomas says walking him to the bathroom. "You go ahead and take a shower and I'll get you some new threads. Man can't be in his pjs all the time."

Gamzee smiles a little at his luck. This place is odd but it's comforting. He's no longer under a watchful eye every second of his day. He steps into the shower and sighs feeling for the first time in ten years a hot shower. It's amazing. He's alone and the water is hot. He can't help but laugh. "This sure beats the communal showers," he says out loud throwing his head back to let the warm water wash over his face.

Once done with the shower he finds a folded pair of jeans and a ratty t-shirt displaying some band he's never heard of. The clothes drown him in fabric but he can't help but enjoy the lack of exposure they give him. They're much better than the khaki shorts and white colored tee that he's worn since he was young.

He meets the other men in the apartment, staying close to Thomas. There's Samuel who wears an eyepatch even though both of his eyes are fine. A small happy man who everyone calls the Elf. Everett is the stockiest of them all, he says very little and reminds Gamzee of a pitbull. Lastly there is Kevin, he's as average as they come with the striking features of a prince. They all greet Gamzee with open arms and smiles the suspicion drained from their faces. It's odd to see people be so kind to him.

The next week goes by quickly. He helps around the house. He cleans, cooks, and laughs with Thomas. They go out after their chores are down and buy Gamzee a small wardrobe of jeans and band t-shirts. He gets a pair of beat up tennis shoes from Kevin. He feels almost happy though he misses his mother. He knows she would dislike his living arrangements. But he can't help being comfortable around the easy-going men. They allow him into their family and treat him like a real human. Not just a lamb or a sinner.

Their laughing as they eat dinner at one of Thomas's outlandish stories. Gamzee has eaten three slices of pizza and is on his fourth amazed at the taste. He'd only eat vegetables from their garden and the mush they called oatmeal. He glances up at the news as the room falls into a comfortable silence.

His jaw drops. Father's face is shown on the television. "T-turn it up," Gamzee quietly asks dropping his pizza on the floor. The screen flips to bodies lined in the prayer room. The news reporter says that 45 men, woman, and children took their lives today. They all belonged to the Family of Father Dennis Gracy. Gamzee covers his mouth shaking his head. His mother is dead. She saved him. He's shaking now as the news stitches to the weather.

"What the matter kid?" Elf asks looking at Gamzee. He stares at them wide eyed.

"My...my mother. Th-that cult..."

Thomas hands him a rolled up piece of paper a small smile on his face. "Here, have some of this to calm you down."

With a short lesson from Thomas and a few coughing fits, Gamzee is taking slow drags from the blunt. He feels calm albeit still a little shaken but the smoke in his lungs is soothing. He takes a few more shaky breaths before he feels fully calm. There's apart of him that knows that this isn't where his mother wanted him to end up. But there's the other part that doesn't care. She's dead. He'd be alone in the world without these men.

"Ready to talk, kid?" Thomas asks smiling at the newly high boy.

Gamzee nods taking one last hit. "That was the motherfucking Family. I was part of that cult. Me and my mother. I guess that's why she told me to motherfucking run..." he decides to talk like Thomas. He decides that now the Family is dead he's going to relax, be chill like the men around him. He's safe now. He's going to be a brand new man.

He's losing it again. Pushed over the cop car ,handcuffs on his wrists, he's shouting. "I need the picture! I need Tavbro!" The cops are ignoring his pleas pushing him harder against the cop car attempting to stop his struggling. He screams through the reading of his Miranda rights. All he wants is that photograph. The happy one of him and Tavros at a carnival. The one taken only a month ago. He couldn't leave Tarvos behind like that. After all the young man had done for him. After the tears he'd cried for him. After all that and they expected Gamzee to leave him behind? He'd let him down already, he couldn't do it again.

Terezi scowls opening the door to the cop car. She walks over to the fiasco, the initial cop finally realizing her proximity yells for her to get back in the car. "There's a murderer right here and you wander out here like a crazy girl!" He snaps frustrated at Gamzee's lack of cooperation.

"Give him the picture, Officer Taylor," she demands.

The officer hesitates before ordering the other to grab the crumbled photograph from the car. With the photograph in his hand, Gamzee quiets and follows every direction given to him.

"Thank you , sis," he whispers softly as he pushed into the cop car.

a/n; How drugs? How write? Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Finger printed and photographed, he sits handcuffed in a blank holding cell. Bent over his head nearly brushing against his knees he sighs. His hallucinations have subsided and the guilt sets in. He had killed two people. He ruined their lives and left their families, their friends, and even his friends to pick up his disaster. Another long sigh before he can muster the strength to straighten his back.

A new cop enters the room her hair in a tight blonde bun. She's petite in every meaning of the word but her tone and face are hard and strict, barking orders for Gamzee to follow her. He follows with no resistance or fight. All the fight had left him when the picture had been placed in his hands and promised not to be taken from him. He knew it was silly to put so much care into the photo. The picture wasn't Tavros. But if Gamzee zoned out enough, put the minimum amount of thought into holding the picture he could just barely pretend that the smooth feeling of the photo paper was Tavros's hand, holding his own, reminding him to stay calm, that he still loved him and that things were going to be okay.

She uncuffs him for the moment allowing him a quick second to rub his wrists before shoving a receiver into his free hand. "You have one phone call, make it count." She says stepping aside her hand resting of the top of her gun as she watches him dial the number.

He dials the only memorized number he has up in his fuzzy, ruined mind. Three rings in and a very sleepy, very flustered Vriska answers the phone. Gamzee's heart drops as he hears her voice. Tavros should have answered the phone. Vriska always makes Tavros answer the phone.

"Hello?" she asks again getting no response from her first hello.

"Hey spidersis, this is Gamzee is Tavros motherfucking around?"he speaks softly into the black phone at his ear. His eyes scanning the photo in his hand. They were both grinning so wide, if he squints a little he can see Tavros's teeth.

Silence comes from the other end before she lets out a deep sigh. "Gamzee... you know he's not here," she states simply, sadly.

"Yeah? Will you tell him that I'm up in motherfucking jail?"

"Gamzee what did you do?" she asks in a quiet voice. But before she gets an answer he hangs up.

Gamzee sits in an uncomfortable chair facing an unhappy officer of the law. He'd broken the one rule he was told never to break; don't get caught. He was making a simple delivery, one he'd made thousands of times in his first year of freedom. The only difference was that the dealer he was suppling was an undercover cop. "What's your name boy?" the cop demands for the fifteenth time. Gamzee was keeping quiet, doing just as he was always told. If the cops get you; you stay quiet.

Sighing the cop leads Gamzee to a waiting are. "We'll talk later, kid. " he says pointing at a chair for Gamzee to sit in beside another troubled youth. The youth looks familiar but so do most youths who call themselves runners in Thomas's field.

"Thomas says you keep your mouth shut and don't come back," the kid says not looking towards Gamzee or even looking as if he noticed Gamzee beside him.

"W-what?" Gamzee stutters turning towards the cuffed youth beside him.

"Don't come back. He doesn't want you." The youth says no more despite Gamzee's attempts to get an answer from him. Why would Thomas just abandon him like this?

An hour passes before a new, kinder looking, cop takes Gamzee back into the interrogation room. "My names Carol." she says sitting down opposite to him. "What's your name?" She's polite and kind regarding Gamzee as a human and not a common hood rat as the other cop did.

He sighs finally giving in. "Gamzee Makara," he states. "I'm 14 years old." Carol leaves the room after thanking Gamzee, telling him that she needed to check any records on him.

"The only record we have of you anywhere in the United States is from your immigration," she states coming back into the room. Gamzee just stares having no clue why that was something of importance. "We couldn't even find medical record." She places down a small folder looking at the sloppy mess before him.

Gamzee is still tall and thin, although much less malnourished looking than a year ago. His hair has grown out to a ratty mess that is rarely brushed. His wardrobe has transformed from the militant khakis and a polo to much too large jeans and a baggy t-shirt with ever present grease stains.

"Son, where and why have you being hiding for the past ten years?"

Gamzee shrugs still not understanding. "I just lived with the motherfucking Family. I never had to motherfucking doctor or anything, 'cause Father was up and a motherfucking doctor or something." he explains.

"Oh... Oh my God!" she exclaims her eyes widening. "We found another one!" She rushes from the room leaving Gamzee in confusion.

She returns back with another woman. She explains that the other woman is a survivors case worker. She would be helping Gamzee cope with being one of the few surviving members of the Denis Gracy Family. She would also put Gamzee in the foster system and attempt to find him a family.

The next few hours of paperwork and interviews go by in a blur for Gamzee. He's still stuck on the idea that there are more than just him who are still alive. He had tried to get names but they refused to give them, just as they wouldn't give out his name. It was common with these sort of cults that some survivors were only allowed to survive as the clean up crew. They would make sure whoever was left wouldn't be for much longer.

"What do you want?" Sollux spits answering Karkat's phone.

"Oh Sollux lets skip the pleasantries, please. Can you put Karkat on?" Vriska asks having called Karkat.

"What do you want with him? Want to ruin hith life jutht like you did Tavroth'th?"

This gains an eye roll from Vriska. "Gamzee's in jail, I just figured Karkat would want to know," she responds ignoring his comment. It was nothing new.

"Thit, what'd he do?" Sollux asks now sounding cocerned.

"I don't know the clown hung up on me when I told him Tavros wasn't home." she shrugs despite him not being able to see her. "Just let Karkat know." Hanging up the phone she sighs again. What a way to be woken up.

a/n- sorry this isn't the best and took so long! The next will be better and quicker up I promise! Thank you for reading!


End file.
